


Offer My Regrets

by sleepingstars



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Asexual Character, Bisexual Female Character, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Mutual Pining, Sexuality, Suicide Attempt, actual plot???¿ in my fic???¿
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-27 04:19:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19783120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepingstars/pseuds/sleepingstars
Summary: First a dance with a literal devil and now a deal with one. Charlie didn’t know if she had crummy luck or had no luck at all.





	Offer My Regrets

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to my dear friend Marie, you're lovely! Thank you for putting up with me going insane for a week! Any mistakes are on me bc I got a bad eye strain from how long this is. Also, the title is a reference to the only love song in the album A Lesson Unlearnt from the band Until The Ribbon Breaks which can be found here https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5LM0KgtKFSc 
> 
> I would link the official video as it is more aesthetic, but the footage is from a softcore movie
> 
> Please take this offer of charlastor and again sorry for any mistakes this document was so massive holy shit I went insane rereading it

When Alastor had first met her, it had been at a banquet.

It was to be expected that the Princess of Hell would attend the formalities that the overseers of Hell threw their fortune at. Despite that, he was privy to it—as palpable as the tension in the air when he appears—that she does not want to be there.

Neither does he but a being of his social status and standing should be there and he chanced upon the invitation concealed in his coat pocket. After all, he had been a newcomer, scraping his way up the ranks and besting the most venerable of sinners and it would be seen as offensive and unsightly if he hadn’t.

His attire was decked in charcoal black, accompanied by a pinstripe bow and an off-colored white dress shirt, iron pressed and neatly put on. Stiffly the sleeves of the suit were stretched on his wrists and he stamped out the urge to straighten out the flawless outfit. His gaping smile was still ever present. It felt odd that there wasn’t a frayed tailcoat lapping at the spaces around his ankles as he made his way through the room, his microphone stand clicking in time with the footfalls of his glossy shoes.

The princess was busy with her subjects that unquestionably didn’t respect her, not at all like her parents. Lilith and Lucifer were legends in their lore, engraved in time while their daughter had been the latest edition that no one wanted to buy.

Perhaps it was because of this recalcitrant phase she was going through, several decades about going on about how to right the many wrongs in Hell with the expansive amount of sinners. Charities no one went to even despite that some had been funded by her parents, applications that went into the trash. It was already doomed from the beginning of each project she started that was to be terminated.

Purgatory was full enough as it was and no one down in Hell knew of what the upstairs department was up to. Angels were a pest and downright vengeful, from how many sinners they slaughtered in exterminations. As if they were going to disclose the details of heaven to folk such as them. If anything the ones who had been saved were being moralistic and proper—lording over everyone how much goodness they could bestow to specks of filth. God—Satan knows what Alastor thought before focusing back to his main task.

For someone brought up in Hell she was one of the nicest things that he had seen and been a witness to. There was no such maliciousness from her as he neared her, taking in her easy-going disposition.

It seemed that she was the only one that hadn’t noticed him until he harrumphed, throat clearing. The girl glanced up from a squatted denizen that had been aiming to put his hand up her dress but scurried off when seeing who was awaiting the attention of the heiress.

“Oh hello I’m Charlotte but I go by Charlie, no title necessary.” She stood up, leveling out the wrinkles in the evening gown she was in. There was a resemblance to a night sky, not at all like in Hell where there was that infernal pentagram. It was a calming blue, the flowing chiffon ruffles hemmed in wispy trimmings. In the myriad of reds that they were encompassed in, he wondered why she wore that. She put out a dainty hand with a daintier smile. “Pleased to meet you…?”

Alastor took her by the hand, careful of his clawed nails. Already he knew Lucifer had been notified of his presence the moment he waltzed in. There was an implicit provocation from the simmering power latent in the father’s regal appearance. In contrast, her mother seemed eager on sampling the finest wines from how the servants refilled her glass.

“Alastor. Pleasure to meet you, sweetheart.” Her smile twinged down at the endearment but he was raised to be seen as a gentleman so it was a gentleman he would portray himself as. He couldn’t go back on his words even if he wanted to, mannerisms too far ingrained in him. Letting go after the handshake it was then Charlie had seen the large radius between them and the other compatriots of the ballroom. The music came to a stop and a foreboding furor of bloodlust could be felt throughout the room. Nervously she took a step back and Alastor couldn’t have that, that wouldn’t do one bit.

Blessedly it was then that the orchestra did their job, rushing to a classical piece from his times that washed over the room and the atmosphere shifted drastically. Instantaneously the tenseness had dispersed, recouped with a jovial melody as the guests went into a congregation to the marble flooring.

The guests were pairing up for the jamboree and Charlie floundered, looking for someone that would meet her eyes and found that only Alastor was met her when turning back to him. Trying not to show any sort of weakness it was then that her scattered brain had connected the dots that this was the infamous sinner that had terrorized many other sinners from his unprecedented conquering.

“If you’re worried I’ll do something, say, shatter that neckbone of yours—“ Charlie gulped, “—you have positively nothing to fear.” He took her hand then, eyesight casting over the twirling couples to the ones that were atop their thrones. “If I wanted everyone in this room slaughtered it would have been finished with dessert still on its way. Now come along.”

No escape and absolutely no way to refuse his proposal. With all the eyes on her, she felt almost as if she had been coerced into it.

Charlie pretended not to be bothered by the gleefully morbid threat as she let herself be led to the midst of the room as they began a basic foxtrot. Charlie hoped that her heels didn’t stub on his shoes as she continuously glanced down to her feet to make sure. Yet even if she made a flub and cringed at it, Alastor compensated for her, to where he would dip her and spin to play it off as intentional. Unlike other guests that often had gotten handsy that her father had to smite them, his hands were well above her waist and he followed through on textbook politeness. It was…enjoyable, if she wasn’t terrified of making a mistake.

Inhabitants of Hell weren’t known for their politeness but the smile on Alastor’s face seemed to disprove that. Either he did his homework or he was an intellectual from how articulated he went on about the music that was from his era and key events that had taken place there. Although most were atrocious dates of murders, Charlie didn’t know what spurred that on before going back to the topic of music. Unknowingly to her, Alastor had been casually reciting to her of his kills.

“The 1930s? They did have fantastic music, especially songs like Happy Days are Here Again,” Charlie said in a twirl, the hem of her dress sailing with the motion. Deftly his hands transitioned her back into the first steps and she felt herself unwind, her hand coming between the bridge of his shoulder and back as they danced to the dulcet lull of strings and brass.

“I quite agree, my dear. The music I have tuned to on my radios rather confounds me at times. What is rap? Perhaps talking is now a genre of music too. As a radio entertainer, I could practically be singing the news!” He laughed then entertained by it and Charlie couldn’t help but stifle a giggle at his cluelessness because it appeared that he hadn’t understood modernization yet.

If not for the telltale prominence of eyes on her she would have taken him up for another round. The crescendo was going off on a high note before it faded out and the band retired for intermission as they tuned their instruments. Signaling the end of the dance, they both parted and Alastor bowed to her and she only inclined her head at him accepting it with a smile that was somehow easier to put on. After that, he had walked away and she was flocked with more guests that stole her away. In the back of her mind, she wondered where he went because for the remainder of the night he was nowhere to be seen.

It wouldn’t be the last time they’d meet.

—

After Alastor had let himself in it was when he reintroduced himself that Charlie regained something. It was as if her memory had been plugged in, rebooted and restarted a backlog of more memories coming back to her. A night where she could still hear the band rehearsing and the chiffon tuffs that billowed in the pivots from a dance. His words had rung with clarity then, the exact greeting repeated to her.

Despite that it had been a while back, she had recalled snippets of a grin and muffled voice that hadn’t been from false cognizance because his voice had been muffled. Flyaway alley posters with an illustration of a man in a red coat and microphone stand, eyes only holes with an alarming grin. Red hair, red eyes, red...

“Alastor?” She said with uncertainty but it had been loud enough that he stopped whatever he was saying.

“Yes?”

“We’ve met before, haven't we?” He tilted his head at her like he was thinking back too despite that he did know who she was when having first viewings of her musical act. Who could forget the next ruler of Hell, she was unforgettable from how drastically different she was to her heritage.

Feigning things wasn’t too hard after years of perfected practice. Was Charlie’s happiness faux too? The princess was still too happy to be called a creation of evil, a hellspawn in the bowels of this world. From how peppy she had been when singing, she was radiating with happiness and still was. It wasn’t infectious her happiness, it was overwhelming and festering and Alastor cared little for it.

There was a minuscule crack in his sangfroid, though he didn’t know why she caused it. Charlie could make out the ripple, fuzz through her vision as Alastor dissolved into an afterimage. Flickering out before snapping back abruptly. She didn’t bring it up however for her own sake.

“We have! A night at a banquet, a while back. You’re quite the dancer at the foxtrot!”

“Oh.”

She thought harder.

“Why didn’t you go to any of the others? I’m sure demons in your designated rank get tons of those.” Not like herself who was born into essentially royalty and had to abstain her duties. For a moment Charlie felt a split second of envy because for once she wanted to do what she wanted, a childish tantrum even in her own thoughts. So what if she wanted some goodness? Hell had to change one way or another and she was going to beckon that change further and cultivate on it.

“A few of such events is enough for this fellow,” he replied, side-eyeing how her spitfire of a friend was glaring at him from around the couch.

Alastor was tempted to hex her solely for her insolence due to her foul language that he definitely knew weren’t compliments. It was a disregard of him but he thought better of it because if he was to gain Charlie’s trust, then he had to keep her friends alive and well. Though not all that well as the six-limbed demon winked at him before clicking his tongue, popsicle in hand doing a ritual with it, licking it. In what would be a sensual way if not for the fact that Alastor wasn’t interested, ever. A kiss was blown when he looked back again. How charming.

“I understand they can be…something,” Charlie was hit with the repression of one occasion coming to a close in a bloodbath and how her parents had been enthralled by it, while she had been horrified by the casualties. “But what can you do for the Happy Hotel?”

Alastor had been prepared for this. Over the years he had spent his time bidding away, taking resources to where he could effortlessly take over whenever he desired. However, he needed several things for it to go accordingly if that were to happen, to get dominion and then go onwards to heaven.

“Well my dear, have you had any sponsors yet?” Charlie went because no she hadn’t and how did she expect to get the hotel functioning when it was in shambles?

Charlie couldn't depend on her parentage for the next century, she had to journey out there and do what she finally set to accomplish. Her parents had little to no knowledge of what she had been deliberating over. A lot of persuasions was said to her parents because Hell was overpopulated even with the exterminations. Yet she would instead be depending on a demon she had met once that had shown up at her doorstep, where she didn’t know him much less his intentions.

She pondered if she could ever reach out to heaven and if they could aid her help. Actually, what was she thinking, angels would disintegrate her if they knew she was the spawn of their outcasted brother. Lucifer wouldn't have been forgiven for his misbehavior even if he did his repenting. In spite of that, if angels could believe in redemption could sinners have that?

Charlie had no idea and still didn’t, no way to tell if it was possible. Nonetheless, she may as well try. Hell’s problems weren’t going to solve itself by these mass killings that the angels and citizens carried out. Even if that was the go-to and easiest options for them because killing was a day to day routine for some sinners...

“No at the time we have…currently zero,” she said in a dwindling voice but his keen ears picked up on it.

Now was his chance. To prove he was a worthy ally (from how he would showcase that) and he swept his arm out, microphone outstretched. He then put his arms down but swiveled his head fast enough to get whiplash, face right next to Charlie’s. His ears listened on her fumbling heart rate and he could see the hasty reddening skin of her face from how near he was as she glanced away.

“Perhaps I could lend assistance? Get it up and running back in tip-top shape.” He surveyed over the decrepit and outdated surroundings, boarded up windows and doors, and the substantial dust that outlined the environment. When entering, the odor of decay flooded his senses that were common with rundown buildings. From the patterned walls and stained glass windows, it was property her parents had claimed at one time but let it collapse to the passing of time. To really sell her, he put a long finger through the dust and coming up with a clump of it. Flicking it off onto the floor he nodded to himself. “This place is in need of dire repairs and I know exactly the people to contact!” He put on his dramatics to see if he had her attention. From how Charlie urged him to go on he had and inwardly he smiled cynically. “But first my dear, we have to make a deal.”

First a dance with a literal devil and now a deal with one. Charlie didn’t know if she had crummy luck or had no luck at all.

Alastor hadn’t gained the title The Demon of the Crossroads because he would conveniently come to every sinner’s aid, it was if they were to seal the deal after contacting him. Back in his days, there was the customary Kiss of Death to have the victims’ fate tied down to the arrangement as the victims’ souls would be collected. Kissing wasn’t his methodology, rather he did his transactions in a concrete way. Not to mention traditionally contracts were made between a demon and a human, not two demons. Charlie was a creation made by hellish figures and Alastor had his doubts that she had an ounce of humanity in her, no matter how upbeat she was.

Still, it would ensure Alastor that she would be bound to it. Bringing out a contract he put it in front of her. One sheet of oldening paper with penmanship by himself as it was made in his own terms. Immediately it was snatched out of his grasp, Charlie flinching back. Vaggie tore into it and then again, cursing at him until she saw that it was putting itself back together to where it was whole again. No tearing on it whatsoever.

“Oooooh that’s some heavy hoodoo-voodoo magic there,” Angel Dust commented as he took it from her and the trio took their time reading through it while Alastor waited patiently, smiling still.

Alastor leered at them. “It would be, it’s written in my own blood and partially a tad of skin, which has healing properties not to mention—“ Angel Dust let out a very colorful expletive of sanitation and hurled it on the ground and for an extra measure flipped him off. Dusting it off for her, Alastor handed it out to Charlie as the spider demon retreated back to the couch muttering on about freaks and dicks.

Before she could take it, Vaggie lugged her outside and he could hear the ferocity in her tone and Charlie's backpedaling to why they had to take it. It would be foolish not to as the pair had their trade of remarks while he avoided being by that other ‘friend’ they had acquired. If their talk got too volatile it could be used in his favor and strengthen his offer. Then the door opened to a rejected-looking Charlie and he knew that he had no possibility of making a deal. Vaggie smugly hmphed at him, passing by with the faint scent of her shampoo almost making him sneeze.

Truth be told, Alastor expected to be thrown out then but the woman took the contract and handed him a form. Freshly taken from its journal by how there was still serrated paper that clung to it. While glimpsing through it he then looked over to her discreetly, while she was still contemplating over the constraints of his contract. Her cursive was rather impressive he would give her that.

Alastor also had to applaud her headstrong personality. Apparently, the princess wasn’t as much of a pushover or gullible as he had initially thought.

“We’ll both sign contracts to seal the deal, would that be alright?” Charlie was brimming with trepidation because he could kill them all in this dirty rundown building from the mere suggestion of a dual contract between both parties. Although Charlie had her family’s reputation and class, Alastor had both and exceeded that—feared by many demons with otherworldly capabilities that it was possible that the oldest of demons could potentially be eliminated by.

Unforeseen to her, Alastor merely gave a small laugh before a ballpoint pen dispersed out of the air and into her hands as he took another from his coat pocket. Charlie was still comprehending how he could materialize and move things with a flex of a finger before she briskly scrawled her signature. Signing his name they exchanged papers and he bowed fully before extending his hand as they shook to finalize their bargain.

“Marvelous! Pleasure doing business with you, I’ll be sure to keep in touch. If you ever need to reach me, holler to a radio! Good day to you!” With that and a jangling echo of a radio, he was gone, leaving the trio pondering over the encounter.

Charlie peered down at the contract in her hands and her printed out name before sighing out.

—

Reconstruction had been completed much faster than Charlie had anticipated. Alastor has been credible to his words and commitment, lending her a reliable team of workers that had renovated the hotel. Shortly in the span of weeks (opposed to the months it would have taken her if she hadn’t accepted the help), the hotel was fully recovered.

It was then Alastor dropped by for more than a few minutes. Previously he had blipped in and out to check on the progress and keep in track with the updates. Often he and Charlie had informal meetings for discussion, which usually was an amalgamation of planning. All while in between this he informing his subordinates of what they could proceed with and what he could take for himself. No one disputed with him as they all agreed. Which of course they had to because if they didn't they would be convinced, by torture or death both choices interchangeable because he was a very merciful person.

Unbeknownst to Charlie that was how he conducted his profession and one of the requirements from the contract was not to ask what he did behind the scenes. Due to the contract, Charlie was obligated to obey it and his guidelines conveniently bypassed her own guideline of nonviolence. Yes, it was suspicious but what demon didn’t get their hands dirty? At least he had the common decency to wear gloves.

Heeled shoes resounded across the lacquered floorboards as he took in the brand newness of the establishment and the improvement it had undergone as he studied the decor and furnishes.

There was the pattering of feet above him. Someone was at one of the doorways and when whisking around he saw Charlie who had a box load of appurtenances in her arms. Putting it down on a table, she dusted off her hands onto her slacks before blanching when spying onto Alastor. The demon gave a wave of his hand back though inside he was howling in laughter at the frazzled woman.

“Oh, Alastor you scared me,” Charlie had come from the landing of the staircase and he saw that she was alone, no tagalongs whatsoever. Her appearance was somewhat unbefitting for a person born of noble status, sweat and grime stained, with a few stray locks of hair coming out of her looping ponytail. Her salmon colored top suit had been discarded and only her suspenders were left. She was jubilant and her hair was as golden as baby buttercups, Alastor didn’t know why he drew the comparison but shrank from the thought. Charlie was a business partner she could dress and look however she wanted.

In her hand were a few oddities that Alastor watched as she bumbled around putting them in their rightful places. A reception bell ringer for services, motivational art posters on the walls, a sign and other items that announced they were open while she went to get a stool to put the greeting chime by the door.

Alastor stepped in then, substantially taller. “Here let me poppet.”

Plucking it from her hands he latched the tinkling bell up on the door ridge and put the mat on the doorstep, components that he presumed were to be welcoming to sinners that were to book a stay. Charlie chirped her thanks as she straightened a poster out before loosening her ponytail and brushing her fingers through her long locks as she sighed happily to herself, finally satisfied.

“We’re back in business!” She let out an ecstatic laugh as she threw open a window and took in the night sky of Pentagram City, the nighttime just as unpleasant as the daytime. Charlie was born there so she couldn’t compare it to anything else, home was home. Despite that, she had tried her fair share of getaways outside of Hell before her parents caught onto her.

A heaviness cut through her suddenly. Could she ever be redeemed from being a byproduct of what was perceived as evil? Did Charlie even want to be redeemed or was she born evil? What defined evil and good? Those were questions that would go around like a roundabout in her head when she was quite young. When she was a child, whenever her father drank over his tolerance of alcohol he would occasionally talk Heaven but whenever she had prodded him on it she was ushered off and within time his grievances stopped. Charlie took her mind off her burdensome thinking.

First, she’d have to help others before helping herself.

“So what’s next Charlotte?” Alastor sidled up next to her, arms clasped behind his back and whole upper body invading her space. From how he was, the man had never heard of a concept called a space bubble and Charlie leaned away from him. Not realizing that he was causing her to edge away from him, he put his forearms on the windowsill while she was squished between the wall and window corner.

“I would prefer if you called me Charlie, Alastor, and now….” she pawed at a strand that was clinging stubbornly to her chin and continued, “we have to find others that are willing to get better.” Charlie looked to her manicured nails, inspecting them and picking at the dirt under it. Her elbows bounced against Alastor who darted away from her and she glanced at him who only smiled back. Well, more room for her she guessed as she put them up to prop up against it.

“For now we only have Angel Dust and Vaggie on board but that’s about it. Well, actually just Angel Dust. Who is worried about his reputation being outed as what he puts ‘a total fluff head’ so…” she trailed off to gaze above held all the answers she had been seeking out.

Sadly all that answered her was the depths of red and yells of the damned from the streets. No such things as stars and planets and other things that littered the sky (though they had pollution) as all she had come to known were the red skies of Hell.

It was then that Alastor voiced his painstakingly chosen words. “I’m certain there are plenty of miserable wrongdoers ready to rectify their misgivings. Simple persuasion is the tactic my dear and I could mention your hotel on the radio! It would be a smashing success don’t you agree?” It was said in a drawn-out breath, enthusiastic. His grin was massive that had Charlie peek down from how intimidating a grin could be. Noticing, Alastor toned it down to what he thought a regular smile could suffice for.

“Maybe…maybe we could redirect new arrivals so they can get accustomed to the change since they are...in Hell...and that way it will be more easy to convince that they need rehabilitation. But there are also sinners here that need help now before they’re too far gone.”

Charlie’s reply hadn’t been what he had been wanting to hear. Just a yes and even a smile would have made him complacent but she just had to complicate things. Good golly she was beyond him.

The stream of new arrivals was what was making the balance off-kilter and to impede that now would make things harder for him.

However to not bring suspicion to his ulterior motives he concedes to it. Not before interjecting with an agenda of his own, enacting a strategy earlier than he would have liked. “Well, you’ll be overjoyed to hear that I’ve met with one person that would be happy to come.” That had her acutely attentive, Charlie seizing him by the arms.

“Already! Who is it?!” Known to virtually all of Hell, Alastor didn’t appreciate the touch of others and glitched, similar to a warning. To which she blushed, florid and quite mortified. Apparently, Charlie had missed out on the memo.

She fiddled with her sleeves, face still red that mismatched with her pinkened cheeks. “...Sorry, I’m a bit easily…excitable.” Charlie’s willed the redness to die out and she tried again. “So who is it?”

Alastor pulled a bundled folder out of nowhere that provided her with enough information. “Everything you need to know is in the folder darling.” The perks of being so old fashioned was that he could put it on the fact that he was forever stuck in his time period. With delight he took in the face Charlie made before she took it from him and skimmed through it. Her face was very expressive and Alastor felt a buzz of a thrill every time he got a reaction by her. Whether those emotions were of exuberant joy or contained despair they were always a treat to him, to snack on before he would devour her entirely soon enough.

Though he didn’t eat demons only deer.

Shuffling through it he saw how her eyes drooped down in sympathy before shutting it and compressing the folder to her chest. From the tragic life that the patient had been through, Charlie had made her decision within seconds. Unlike before, Alastor knew exactly what her reply would be. For someone who had been born a sinner, she had the soul of a saint.

“So her name is Niffty? When can you bring her around?”

Ever so slightly his smile hiked up higher on his face.

—

It was a given that there were setbacks but there had also been a fraction of sinners that had made their home in the hotel. A motley crew if he did say so himself, sending most of the occupants cowering whenever he fancied a stroll through the corridors. Although it had baffled him that not all of them were his espionage employees and that there were actual individuals that were there for a second chance. Pathetic really, they had squandered their chances when they had all been designated to hell.

Alastor, for the most part, hadn’t regret much of his shortened life but if he could, he would go back to put a curse on the hunter that had mistaken him for a deer when disposing of another kill. It must have been quite a spectacle for the hunter to stumble upon him and he chuckled at that.

Dodging a launched lamp of a pointless disagreement between hotel residents, Alastor knocked a tempo on Charlie’s office door frame. After an increment of silence, it slammed open and a disgruntled and pissed off Lucifer came out sneering. His cheek was swelling up and reddened, not from his unnatural pigmentation.

It was then he saw Alastor and marched up to him, a menacing aura of his sigils clashing with Alastor’s well-kept one, that trickled out from the recesses of himself. It was for a mere show, a game of strengths and he extended the other a plain grin. That affixed smile of his propelled Lucifer farther in his rage and he spat on the pointed toe of his shoe, taking perverse satisfaction in how it clouded up the shining polish.

“You were the bastard that put this absurd notion into my daughter’s head, didn’t you? No demon has ever reached or gotten within an inch of obtaining redemption. I’ve done—“ Lucifer halted himself as if he had overexposed his intent (they both knew it) and he looked away and relented, stepping back. It only served to make Alastor smirk grow. Lucifer had his ultimate weakness on a pedestal because no matter how well he hid it, it had hurt when he fell from Heaven and had lost his wings in the tumble along with his Grace. As if ripping a soul from a comatose, dying body it wasn’t a rumor that the man was crippled and compromised in more ways than one through the centuries. No wonder him and Lilith were a match.

Undoubtedly it affected him, since he was the King of Sinners and that he was the most damned and there was absolutely no way of him ever getting redeemed.

That could be why he sabotaged his daughter’s projects because he could never have what others may possibly achieve. Lucifer had done one of the worst sins of them all when going through with his uprising.

It would be straightforward enough to take the current reign down if he had Charlie for leverage and for one Alastor did, in a sense. Even now she was unknowingly skipping into his hand and all he had to do was pull the strings on her like the marionette doll she was.

Lucifer may not necessarily show it but the father did care for his daughter and hated when she was pained despite that she was in agony every time her projects came to ruination, probably thinking that she was the failure. Yet Alastor was unsure that even Charlie knew that but that was another card up his sleeve that he could use for later.

The man exited the room and he could hear the ruckus he was creating hallways from the shouts of the hotel inhabitants. Coming to the ajar door he knocked in a tempo again, a signature knock that only Charlie knew was his before letting himself in. It was eerily quiet even with the commotion outside.

Among a strewn of files and papers that were jumbled on the floor, there was Charlie sitting on her knees. Alastor vaguely recalled that Vaggie had an errand to do and Angel Dust had his job to maintain so she had been left to fend for herself. There really should be a receptionist or security and—no—that feral hellkitten didn’t count as one, no matter how many times he heard it from Angel Dust. Judging from how the condition that the room was in, it was likely that she had lost control too, shaking from how the papers rustled in her hands.

She had been attempting to clean up the heap of papers and books but it had been left hanging in her grips before Alastor took it from her, Charlie not even looking up as the papers floated around reorganizing themselves. Within minutes most of everything was back in order except for the wreckage of what had been the desk and the lounge area to the side of the room. The wallpaper was shredded to slivers but a redesign never hurt anyone though the wallpaper couldn’t be salvaged.

“Charlie? Lamb?” Tentatively Alastor let himself crouch down because she hadn’t made eye contact with him once. The girl still hadn’t look at him and he had to do something, hesitancy going between the two of them. It was Alastor who had initiated it when he then touched her, overstepping boundaries that he had put in place for himself.

One: Not to get too close.

Two: Never let work mix with personal life.

Three: Ever touch them in a way where he knew it would both of them influenced.

Simultaneously Alastor had disregarded all three at once after months—years really—of meticulous scheming to comfort a girl that he was substantially conning.

Past him would be rolling over in his ditch of a grave but past him hadn’t met someone like Charlie before, so wholesome and simply—happy even in Hell. Ultimately, Alastor had become fond of Charlie’s optimism and bubbliness and he felt his faux grins being replaced with veritable ones that didn’t hurt his face at times.

She certainly intrigued him perhaps that’s why he kept her alive.

“My dear, did something happen?” His hand was still on her shoulder, contingent. Through her veil of disheveled hair, she turned to him and it was then he saw the blood smattering onto her collar and how it streaked across her face in a red brilliance. Her pupils were a milky tint, not from tears because they were a mirror image of her mother’s.

Alastor couldn’t take his eyes off from the blood. Something unidentifiable flared from him, almost like a levee was splintering with the ominous whirling of veves surrounding them. His antlers construing outwards a vortex of—

Charlie had grabbed onto him and took him down to the floor. The two wrestled, him struggling to barrage through the door and her desperately restraining him. “I’m okay! I’m okay it’s not mine!”

“Whose?” His voice was as if a needle was lagging on a record, stringy and disjointed and Charlie held onto his back before worming her way around. Face planting to his chest as she put her weight onto keeping him down. Alastor thrashed more than once, bucking to get Charlie off because Lucifer was interfering with his plans and he had also posed a threat to him and his own daughter.

The thought had him upset him and he was clueless to why. Maybe it was because she was his own daughter, his kin? Even if Lucifer hadn’t harmed her he had dealt his damage and Alastor couldn’t have that.

“My dad’s, okay?! So stop it! Please.” Charlie was on the verge of hysterics, inflection tinged with a wetness. From her blubbery tone, Alastor thrashing ceased, his own temper had dislodged the books and folders in a disarray and left in the state they had been before.

Charlie sobbed, clinging onto him and it struck Alastor that he was hurting her too and it was him that made her cry and not her father. Sitting up he gingerly put a hand on her back and let her cry as she tried to explain herself. He couldn’t do much but having someone weep onto your chest wasn’t a good experience.

“He—he found out about the hotel and wanted to destroy it but I couldn’t let that happen and I scratched him when I slapped him.” She took a breath, shuddering on it as she took in a lungful of air. “I know—I know...he's the one that destroyed my projects and Mom’s, I-I’m not dumb.” So she did know, Alastor mentally shelved that tidbit away for later. “But this is the one thing I can have without depending on them! It’s my first project that isn’t going—going wrong!” She stopped her tirade, heaving as she then realized that Alastor was touching her—holding her and lurched back—

Alastor wouldn’t let her. Instead, he held her and shushed her, putting his chin over her head. “None of that now. Calm down Charlie this isn’t you.” No pet names, no coy trickery in his voice to Charlie it sounded as if it was…concern? In the months they had become business partners he hadn’t shown any remote feeling outside of the hotel but now…

“Sorry sorry.” She was rambling and she felt hot all over like she had been blasted over a fire, cheeks boiling over with angry tears.

The hitch in her throat quieted down as she exhaled and rubbed at her eyes. It was then that Alastor took a glance down and saw that her eyes had returned to the blackness he had come well acquainted with. He didn’t know what possessed him to thumb at a stray tear that ran from her lashes but he did and didn’t find himself regretting it as he let his hand fall.

“There now that’s better.” He produced a silk handkerchief from his pocket and held it out to her.

Gently she took it and mumbled out a tear-thickened thank you as she blew into it, sniffling at her snot before holding it out to him to which he denied, hand up.

“Please keep it Charlie I insist.”

Nodding she stuffed it in her back pocket as they stood up and Alastor help rearrange the objects that had fallen over without the use of magic this time. Alastor wondered why he was doing it without using his abilities until he realized he didn’t want to upset her again and then buried the thought that he was doing something for someone that wasn’t for himself.

“Sorry for…attacking you and making you...hug me,” she didn’t know if ‘hug’ was the appropriate word for the situation but her brain couldn’t find a proper word to describe it. Alastor glanced over to her, seeing her rubbing at her arms, sleeves still rolled up and the left strap of her suspenders flapping uselessly to the side. It must have slipped off in the scuffle and it was then Alastor chastised himself for losing his composure. He also chastised that he wanted to fix it for her.

“Just a one-time thing, add it to your payment.” It had meant to uplift her as a joke but she seemed to wilt at it. Before he did anything else wrong Alastor made his way over to her then, toe to toe. “Charlie, buttercup I didn’t mind it at all. Let’s continue to stay positive, keep our chins up, hm?”

He wasn’t going to mention her father from the fragile state she was in, that would be too much for her to handle. With that, Alastor smiled at her, hopefully to where it was sincere. Charlie nodded again only now there was a wane smile on her blackened lips before he saw his way out.

“Really, thank you, Alastor I really do appreciate you comforting me. I’ll give back your handkerchief I promise.” He simply shook his head before taking his leave, whistling a show tune he had heard that had been tunneled in his head.

When he was on his way back to his house, he realized that he had forgotten what he was going to ask her.

—

It was a late night, one where mostly everyone was asleep if not for the occasional rebels.

He could tell as his ears twitched up from the tiniest sound which was both a minor convenience and a big inconvenience. Over time, he learned to tune things which came in handy.

The air was cramped, his skin lukewarm from the perspiration from last night and how scorching the nights could get in Hell. Utter darkness shrouded the room and Alastor couldn’t pinpoint where he was but knew he was in a hotel when his eyes soon adjusted to the shadows. From the pattern of the wallpaper to the regal furniture that both he and Charlie had discussed over he didn’t know how he got there or why. He hadn’t drunk any alcohol, he didn’t think….he wasn’t a rash drunk of any sort so….

Blinking at the ceiling he realized from how chilly he was because he was naked. When coming to that realization that he was as bare as the day he was born it had made him jolt into action. His hand went for the bedside light, the room awash with an orange glow. His head felt like it was filled with cotton, mouth full of it and he groaned.

Even when he was alive he hadn’t engaged in any physical relationships with anyone, they hadn’t earned his attention and he was alright by himself. Yet there was one woman now in this second life….

Twisting his head he hoped that it was anyone but Angel Dust or Vaggie (anyone in the hotel to be frank) and he saw the birdnest of yellow that was on the pillow and felt his heart ramping up into his mouth and then straight to his stomach. He had slept with Hell’s daughter and didn’t even know how it happened or what happened.

Alastor didn’t want to wake Charlie but from his constant movements—where were his clothes and gee did alcohol sure discombobulate his power—oh she was waking up.

“Alastor,” it was spoken hushed, the sleepiness seeping in as she collapsed on his chest. When that happened Alastor froze like a deer in headlights and could only let himself be pushed down. She was also naked, when she linked her body to his, warm and sweaty. Her eyes shined with a mischievousness, her hands going to his face and Alastor was too stunned to do anything else but let her. He knew that she knew he was spooked from the airy giggle that left her. “Last night was nice.”

“W—Wa—“he coughed because no he wasn’t stuttering. “Was it—dear?”

“Yes,” Charlie groaned and even in the limited lighting, he saw what had happened last night and—holy high heavens—

Charlie grinned at him before she planted a kiss on him, that he would admit he may have had been too pleased with. Her lips caught on his teeth while he was still caught up in her kissing him, her nails going down his chest and having him flinch. It wasn’t unwelcomed only unexpected.

Had Charlie had these feelings right from under his nose? If so he was flattered but the question was if he reapproached those feelings the same way she did. From the night they had, it was plausible that he had and it was more than a tryst from how she was behaving. Still, Alastor had never been so alarmed from the excited racing of his pulse.

“I’ll pay you back. Our payment right?” She lowered her head then, strands of hair tickling his skin her nimble hands at the start of his legs.

“This—this isn’t what I had in mind—“ He hissed because Charlie had taken him in her mouth—

A loud banging like a ricocheting gunshot made him catapult out of bed and Alastor in a moment of weakness swore. Swearing, while uncomely, felt damn good to do and it was one of those rare times where he granted himself that luxury. From the ruckus that his heart was making and the fact that Charlie wasn’t in bed with him or he wasn’t in the hotel meant that he and Charlie hadn’t...eloped. Or were continuing to in his dream and that reassured him strangely.

When getting up from the floor he saw that there was a bulge in his pants to where he had to put his bathrobe over it, covering his striped nightwear. It was obtrusive and still prominent that had him sneering in annoyance. He’d never had those dreams before, heavens he rarely dreamt. Even then it was mostly flashes of his past life that kept him up in a cold sweat.

To think he was having those sort of deviancies towards an associate was highly unprofessional. Not to mention that he still had a problem, an itch he couldn’t quite scratch because he had no desire to. He hadn’t felt any of this until Charlie had resurfaced and was aberrant from the yearning he had for her. There was no way he would reciprocate this sentimentalism and even if she did he wouldn’t know how to respond to it.

The bangs came again and Alastor let the window open with a snap of his fingers already in a souring mood from the disorientation of that...dream or nightmare. Whatever it was. And whoever was at the window would get the brute of his temper.

Only a selection of others had been permitted to come to his home and often it was coming and leaving in a one-way body bag. Unless they were his henchmen and Alastor knew one person that would be daring enough to bang down his window.

At his window Husk peered in as his wings flapped madly before Alastor stuck his head out, antlers scarcely spearing Husk out of the sky.

“Sheesh okay, my bad but I was forced to come here.” He ambled backward from the horns as Alastor eyed him.

“What is it?”

Husk scowled at him. “The hotel is on fire. Turf War. Molotov. Big explosion.” Husk was purposely vague to see how confused his former boss would get but that was also his way of informing him.

The Turf Wars has gotten worse, to where inhabitants were coming and going to where Vaggie snidely remarked to anyone leaving it wasn't a dormitory. The hotel hadn’t been a target as it was on the outskirts of town; this wouldn’t do at all.

Husk blinked because Alastor was no longer there, traveling over frequencies. He sighed, heading back and wondering why his old boss involved himself in this matter. From how his smile dimmed and the dials that flitted through his eyes he knew it was very much unlike him for something as insignificant as a gang war to have him speeding off. Perhaps something had changed.

Charlie had been evacuating the handful of inhabitants that were receiving treatment from the smoke inhalation when Alastor materialized in front of her. Everyone had been asleep from how Charlie ran up to him in pastel pink strawberry pajamas. It was cute in a tooth-rotting way that Alastor scolded himself for getting distracted by strawberry pajamas of all things.

“It’s horrible Alastor! It just went up in flames!” There were no hiccups in her voice though he could tell she had cried from the coarseness in her voice and the fact he smelled salt radiating from her skin. Her skin was paler from the soot that blanketed her skin and clothing. “We’re making a tally of people who still stayed but—“

There was a cry of a shrill voice and they looked to where the first case and the implanted spy, Niffty was waving from the top windows. Obviously, the firefighters weren’t going to go through that much exertion since the flames were getting bigger. Many of them had been loitering as the water supply was about to be depleted. Yet Charlie wouldn’t let them if there was still one sinner left.

“You have to go get her before the flames reach her!” Charlie argued with the lead fireman who shrugged at her. The irony was that the demon was wearing a flameproof gear as he was a fire elemental to prevent from worsening it.

“Listen, missy, it’s a lost cause besides it’s just one demon—“

“If you finish that sentence you’re a lost cause because you’re just one demon.” Even her threats were weak as Charlie reapproached the situation again as the spectacle around the building swelled. Alastor couldn’t quite blame her for being irritated, he could be squandered of a valuable asset in the inferno. “Listen they are my responsibility, I have to take care of all them. They’re under my care I made an oath to them.” Charlie glanced up to Niffty who was still frantic at the window.

The firefighter crossed his arms, unphased. “You do that then.”

That was when Alastor stepped in. “Good sir aren’t you paid to do your job? I suggest you do it. Quickly. Now.” The helmeted demon only toughened up, not backing down from the infamous Radio Demon.

“Well, that’s above my paygrade. And I can still die even if I’m living embodiment of fire, I died in one I’m not one-hundred percent fireproof. They only hired me because they thought I was!”

Both Charlie and Alastor ignored his ranting.

“Well, paygrade isn’t what you’ll be thinking about when your head topples from my hands.” More shouting made Alastor turn his head to see that a suited up Charlie had somehow snuck by in the chaos and into the burning building in the span of seconds.

“That bitch is mental.” The man spat and Alastor hexed the man to where he shoved his firehouse down his throat flailed, body sizzling and popping while his companions frantically tried to save him getting burned themselves.

“One less demon, one less lost cause,” Alastor muttered, rearranging the man’s words in sick irony as he looked onwards to the building. He had no way of preserving himself in the high temperatures and for a few minutes, the crowd went silent while the firefighters bustled around them because unlike their hexed companion they were heedful of him. They knew what exactly had killed their compatriot, indicated from the disappearing mark of a hex.

There was the suspicion that perhaps Lucifer had used the guise of gangs and Alastor nearly ripped a hole in reality from how the situation was devolving and that damn news reporter’s snobbish voice was grating on his ears. Alastor wasn’t going to have an interview in the middle of this as the news anchor was striding towards him in her stilettos.

He walked to the far side where Angel Dust was who was almost completely nude beside his underpants, apologizing profusely to an angered Vaggie. He wasn’t going to meddle in their affairs and it must have been a comical sight of disgruntled misplaced demons in pajamas. Checking over, his clothing had been sloppily pulled on that he went to tidy himself and was pleased that his own situation had stopped. His hair, however, couldn’t be tidied, sticking up in many directions.

Then he waited. Waited some more to where he was going to do an ill-advised and rash thing. If Charlie wasn’t coming out in five minutes then he would barge in with no equipment whatsoever. But he’d need some assistance first. Going over to her friends, he put himself in their circle. Vaggie gave him a glower while Angel wriggled his eyebrows at him to which he overlooked.

“You two if Charlie doesn’t come out in the next five minutes will you help me?”

Vaggie crossed her arms to her tank top. “Why do you care?”

Alastor’s smile went crooked. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Are you serious?” Angel put a pair of his arms up to tame her exasperation.

Alastor took in their debating as the fire raged on. Despite that he could go in there by himself it would be beneficial to use one of them if things went too disastrous. While the two bickered, Alastor watched on quietly.

“Vaggie baby, babe listen to the delicious dear daddy. If Charlie isn’t coming out then we’re going in.” He winked saucily at Alastor. “It’s ride or die, right?”

Begrudgingly Vaggie had given in with Alastor coming along. The three came to where the barricades were further from the crowd and towards the smoldering inn. All of them counted mentally, Alastor doing it a bit faster as they had wasted enough time.

Right when the five minutes ticked down and Alastor was going to hop the barricades with Vaggie and Angel Dust Charlie came out coughing, her oxygen mask over the others face.

It was Alastor that had her in his arms, as Niffty was taken by medical personnel and Charlie was regaining her footing while her two friends fussed over her. Angel Dust had scuttled off to notify other personnel while Vaggie was wrenching off the padded bunker gear.

“Charlie, you alright?” Charlie shook her head and Alastor saw the charring of her cute pajamas, to where it had blistered her skin. “She needs medical attention! Now!” Vaggie had run over to the response units as if to do it herself. The EMTs did what they were told, hurried by the grin that Alastor had and the stress that cut through everyone. In mere seconds he had been rushed at with a mass of demons with the news anchor stalking her way up front.

“Charlotte how does it feel to have another failed project? Co-owner by the exclusive Radio Demon of course.”

Katie Killjoy jabbed her microphone in aggressively—though to viewers it could be seen as overenthusiastic—to Charlie’s face who was putting on an oxygen mask. Alastor wasn’t dumb and knew it was her way of getting back at him since he didn’t take her exclusive interview. Also, he learned why Charlie refused to be called Charlotte like how he refused to be referred to as Al. The lengths of preference in name or nicknames showed familiarity and Katie did not have that nor did she respect Charlie’s wish to not be known by her full name.

He immensely disliked Katie Killjoy. With how she was, she could never compare to a radio host anyway.

Angel Dust had to subdue Vaggie with a four-armed embrace (it was actually more of a deadlock) so that they wouldn’t end up on a highlight reel of the news though that would be edited in if they were. Alastor took it from there as he wedged himself between her and the crowd. Even in his askew bathrobe and hair in a birdnest, he was as dangerous as any other day.

“No comment.” A classic and a literal fuck off in the nicest way possible. It was then the woman became aware of the murderous intent from the majority of the hotel residents to which she excused herself, facade contorting.

While Vaggie and Angel went to Charlie, Alastor suddenly felt displaced and took a step back when his dream came crashing at him. Unlike some dreams, this one would linger. Before he could slip away from the masses, Niffty had taken him by the arm and to where it was secluded from the crowd.

The pint-sized demon rasped out in a deepened pitch, amplified by the smoke she had breathed in. Which would be hilarious if not for the fact that the hotel was being reduced to ashes behind them. “I know you meant for me to be undercover but I don’t think I can do it anymore. Charlie is a truly good person, genuine goodness and after my second experience with pain and almost death—I don’t think I can deceive her. Not after this.”

It just wasn’t Alastor’s night. “You know what this entails right?”

“You're going to kill me? Now? I almost died tonight—“

Alastor wasn’t up for any disagreements. “No I’m not going to kill you, I’m much more refined than some barbarian.” His nose twitched at the implication. “The hotel is no more, you can’t claim that as a sanctuary if you do. And if you leave you have to be like Husk, do you understand?”

Niffty juggled her options before she sighed. “Let me think about it.”

Despite that he had been there for meager minutes it had been a long night for all of them. Wayward heathens milled around while Charlie had been hauled into an ambulance, Vaggie and Angel Dust hitching a ride as the sirens blared and had awakened probably everyone around the block.

Alastor had gotten too close to her when seeing the soot he had gotten on his sleepwear or the way that his heart was rapidly thrumming through his veins. Ignoring the backward looks thrown his way, he traveled back to his house and blacked out in his bed.

There were no recurring dreams that he was grateful for.

—

“I cannot apprehend this feeling Rosie.” Alastor took a sip from the freshly brewed tea as Rosie nibbled from her powdered sweet that had been coated in a jam. “She makes me want to sing show tunes with her—

“Showtunes are our motif dearie.” Rosie corrected as she sipped modestly from her own teacup studying the blend and swirling it expertly. “Quite a good batch of Earl Grey this is,” she whispered then, “it was illegally imported and still quite fragrant for traveling from so far. What a trip I would say!”

“Hmm yes quite so. Quaint. Charlie—“

“Charlie this, Charlie that, goodness this dame has gotten to you like a plague my darling.” Rosie put her porcelain cup down, neatly wiping her powdered fingertips onto her napkin. Alastor took a sudden interest in the intricate doilies that were plastered on the table at the mention of his supposed infatuation. “Really Alastor you are smitten like a young schoolboy! No person has gotten your attention like she has before, color me impressed.”

Rosie took another long siphon of her tea, pit-like eyes half-lidded. “Really you are incorrigible! Pining after the heir to Hell—is this really going to work with your plot to overthrow this hierarchical system of oppression? Dashing off with this pash of yours?”

Alastor scratched at the linen before Rosie whacked his wrist with her fan. Opening it with a stroke of her hand she fanned herself as they sat in her rose garden, Alastor sulking and nursing his numbed wrist.

“She’s not a pash, she’s…a confére.” Alastor sliced into his entree, dabbling at the juice that dripped onto his hand.

“Others do not think of their confére in bed.” Alastor narrowly missed choking on his meal as Rosie giggled to herself in delight at his composure as he sputtered.

As gracefully as he could he then wiped at the corners of his mouth before tossing down his napkin. It made droplets of tea stain the whitened lace and he got reprimanded with a whack to his other wrist. Primly, Rosie readjusted her hat before continuing to fan herself.

“I misjudged how you would interpret my dream,” Alastor forlornly said as she toyed with her cup. “I certainly do not see Charlie in that sort of fashion and yet—“

“—Dreams are mysterious things, sweetling.” Rosie traced a fingertip around the rim of the cup and blew a bit on her piping hot tea that sent a whiff of spices towards Alastor. “Reflecting desires, love—“ Alastor cautioned her, eyes flat but she went on “—pain, pleasure, hate…” Rosie glimpsed up at him again. “They configure things when the heart and mind are confuddled and give a person what they can be deprived of. Non compos mentis so to say.”

Alastor smirked. “Please, dove my sanity is quite in pristine condition.” For the majority of the time.

Rosie tsked as if disappointed. “No my dear you are tailspinning out of control.”

Emptying her cup she moved onto her pastry as she took a thoughtful bite. They sat in silence, eating their respective meals, Alastor stewing over what she said. Partially she was correct he had been fluctuating in self-control and others were beginning to take notice.

Loftily exhaling out as if a mother exasperated with her son, Rosie pushed her cup away as she put her face on her palm, elbows of course not on the table because she did have her table manners. Instead, she held her elbow with her other hand as she stared at him. Despite having black eyes, they could be quite telling as she frowned at him.

“Alastor, my compeer, you must detach yourself from her. She’s taking connections from you, your prattling minions seem to favor her from the care they receive from her. The situation with Niffty?” Alastor felt another crevice in his mask again as he wasn’t deaf to what had happened days earlier.

“That will continue to happen if you do not dissociate yourself with her.” She stopped when taking a bite of her flaky pastry and waiting to chew it thoroughly. “I can’t believe I would say this to anyone, especially you, but do not fall further into this—infatuation—of yours. It’s quite unhealthy to be hyper-fixated on something you can never have.”

Who said that he could have her? Who said he even wanted her? Maybe it was just because she was so eccentric that he was drawn to her. It almost left his mouth but he took back the words before they could and placed his silverware down.

“We will see.”

Rosie sighed again not pleased at his response, motioning for another pour of the refreshment. For the following afternoon, the two chatted over the weather and media such as the witch that had gotten executed last week and what a scene that had been.

—

It had been at least a week and he hadn’t heard back from Niffty and assumed that either she was still deciding or had taken his advice. Or that she vacated town entirely. Either way, he could care less as Charlie had plagued his mind for a bit, taking it out on his hunts. Perhaps he was tailspinning, already set to crash and combust into roaring flames. Either way, he couldn’t quite listen to Rosie’s advice and found himself in a familiar location.

Passing over the hazard tape he walked through the wreckage, letting himself in as the door had caved. Coming to the main foyer of the hotel, it had been the liveliest there and what could be coined as the heart of the establishment. It had been grand once and it could be again, the destruction wasn’t permanent.

Alastor heard the overhead steps of another and saw Charlie on the stairwell, eyes wary from hearing him as she had thought another person had come to desecrate the hotel. Although there wasn’t much to desecrate now.

“Hey, Alastor. What brings you to...the hotel.”

Her eyes longingly went to what once had been the glass windows that were smashed in. A red light filtered through and it illuminated enough that Alastor could see the countenance of Charlie.

Based on her clothing she had been released from the hospital for quite some time and hadn’t fled it as he had first thought. Purposely he had distanced himself from her, laden with remorse that he hadn’t when seeing the fatigue on her features.

“I could ask you the same thing. What brought you back here?” Alastor took in the surroundings and felt a pang of something that he couldn't quite say what of. Avoiding the question she averted her eyes.

“Well my parents sort of—“ she bit her lip, “—disowned me? So I didn’t have any place to go and they gave me so little time to pack my things and I—“

Alastor’s whole body twitched, another rip in reality. “Charlie you’re rambling dear—“

In the very marrow of his bones, Alastor really wanted to ostracize her parents because how dare they? Didn’t they know how vulnerable they were leaving her? Especially with the news broadcasting it every day of petitioning the hotel to be a landfill, Killjoy getting her fun out of it.

“I just don’t know where to go. I’ve been hiding it from Vaggie and Angel Dust not to worry them but I’ve been here for a day...or four.” Charlie was by him now, folding in on herself as she looked anywhere but where he was. That stung at him for some forsaken reason. “If my parents wanted to get rid of me so badly then they should have just told me.”

Truthfully, Alastor didn’t know the right way to console her. What had occurred between her and Lucifer had been a spur of the moment to where she needed comfort then and there and her hurt was quick and forgotten. Now her pain had clawed her back and wasn’t going to be forgotten soon. So when given a forlorn woman, one that was the object of his obsession (affection?) he did one thing he knew a gentleman could do didn’t need to involve physical contact.

“You can stay at my house.”

Charlie’s head bobbed up sun drop hair curling on her cheeks. “Oh no I couldn’t—“

“Charlie. You’re homeless. It’s gated off. It’ll be a few days until you can find a safe enough place and what safer place is with me?”

Somewhere he could hear Rosie screaming at his idiocy but he refused to leave her. Protection was what he could provide her with and he was more than happy to give her that.

Being said he offered his hand out to her. Yet she didn’t take it as he had expected her to.

Charlie took a step forward and put something cold and weighty into his hand. Upon snapping his fingers and manipulating the still whole lightbulbs, in the scant lighting perched in his hand was a long nozzle gun. His brain processed it before identifying that it was a revolver, the elegant neck adorned with masterful craftsmanship and curving into a leather handle. Puzzled he glanced back at her and saw that her expression was resigned.

“I would be safer if you shot me. Right here,” she points to between her eyes and there’s a pinprick of recognition because he died that way. It’s a sickening sensation welling in his stomach and he had long forgotten that he could feel dread. Charlie really had changed him, ushering in emotions that he had thought long died with him as a human.

He held the antique in his palms, staring at her.

Charlie only stared back.

“Charlie, oh you, you had me there. Where’d you get this old prop?” He laughed but Charlie wasn’t shaken from his jesting.

“I stole this gun from my parents. I think it was forged by angels because there are holy bullets in there. They singed my hands for days.” Alastor’s eyes darted down and he saw the burns that he had thought was from the fire but had been from the pistol. “If just being touched by those can melt my skin off it can kill me.”

This was Lucifer’s gun that sat in his hands. His sigil was covert from the apples, winding leaves, and branches, the artistry belonging to the 1900s. Alastor had no clue if Charlie knew that it was her own fathers but no one should be in possession of a weapon that could annihilate a hefty portion of their population. From what he had investigated on, the gun had been gone missing in a war trench when a human had gotten their hands on it. Either Lucifer had it all along or he had been looking for it, but there it was right in his grasps.

“Alastor I know of your plans.”

Charlie was inches from him and he wondered if she could hear his rampaging pulse like he could hear hers. Inevitably, he was to be found out but not this way, never this way.

“From the start, I knew that your intentions weren’t to help. Maybe only to help just yourself.” Alastor’s insides ached at the accusation and the truth it held. “Niffty told me but it confirmed my suspicions. And before you go after her, she’s gone. So if you’re going to kill me now just do it.” Charlie stood toe to toe with him now, taking his hand to put the barrel between her eyes. “Maybe it’ll be just like sleeping. I could use a nap.” Shutting her eyes Alastor could smell her fear, her lopsided and quickening heart. “Just—just do it whenever you’re ready.”

Months ago Alastor would have done it, with a gun of this caliber it could overshoot his status above even the overlords of Hell. What demon would fight him with Lucifer’s gun? That in itself was a power tactic, having the fabled gun.

When looking at Charlie he no longer felt contempt or any predisposed maliciousness towards her now. A hollowness was funneling into him at her absence of joy, missing her smile. What brought her to such drastic matters? Where was her bouncy optimism? Alastor has an inkling that perhaps the Happy Hotel had taken her own happiness away and for that, he doubted he had a remedy for her brokenheartedness.

Yet he couldn’t bring himself to carry out with her demand and he dematerialized the pistol, before gathering Charlie in his arms and trapping her to him. Startled she tried to leave then before there was a cut-off sob from her and he just held onto her. Limply she held back onto him, then tighter. Instead of crying out again she sighed, watery and sorrow filled as if she had exhausted all her tears.

“Apologies but I’m not going to kill you, Charlie. Not now.”

For a few seconds, he rocked her on the heels of his shoes before she spoke in the destitute lobby, still shaky with adrenaline.

“So what changed? I’m too much even for you?” Alastor let an lone cackle of a laugh leak out, going for his coat pocket where he kept his—

Oh. He remembered now. When his hand faltered in his pocket, Charlie leaned away from him to ransack her own pockets before pulling out her handkerchief. Well, what had been his but she now held ownership of it like how she held ownership over his haywire feelings—

“Sorry, it's a little dirty but still usable.” The silk has dulled and Alastor wondered how many times she had cried. Alastor let go then but kept a hand on her back while the other went to her face, cradling her cheek.

“Dove you’re the one that’s crying. Now wipe that pretty face of yours and we can go to my house. I won’t accept no for an answer and I’m not leaving you alone. It’s for your own good, agreed?” Alastor had sealed his own fate without even having to use a contract and now he was taking it in melioration. He could live with this, possibly.

Aside from him, she hunched into herself while Alastor gave her privacy. Cleaning her face, Alastor turned back around and held out his hand to her.

The night they met was replaying in her mind and Charlie put her hand into his because what else could she do? She had no family or place to go to and she was risking the safety of others if she stayed with them. This was the one-way ticket she supposed. When fitting her hand into his, it was so much larger in comparison. Clawed fingertips, lithe fingers... Was his skin disfigured and that was why he wore gloves? His hand hid her own and even through the fabric of his gloves, his skin was a tepid and mild heat.

It had been rumored that the renowned Radio Demon had the absence of a heart but there was proof that he had one just by the warmth at her fingertips.

Her fingers squeezed onto his.

Then the world became a blur of colors and sounds, the elasticity of a snap, radio dials spun to her ears. It felt as if she was traversing through time and Charlie stepped forward, tripping. An arm caught her, stabilizing her as Alastor sighed to her.

“It takes getting used to but for a first timer like yourself you held on quite well.” He let go of her then although she noticed the hovering hand over her waist. “Now watch your step there—and welcome to my house!”

In the midst of towering trees, an isolated house had been built there. Only a red wooden house leading to nowhere. Charlie had envisioned a looming mansion like her parents but was taken aback when seeing the two-story house. All around the parameters were woodlands, where Charlie knew she would get lost in them.

Alastor opened the door to his household and his coat flew off and onto a display rack. Charlie thought it was almost like he was a more satanic version of Mary Poppins as she walked in. The house seemed alive, as his magic circulated through every nook and cranny as Charlie tagged behind the man into the main room.

Variations of red lined the wallpaper and mostly wood comprised the environment that was his home. A worn out gramophone and a menagerie of radios and an ancient television were stacked in the expansive living room. Bookcases stood tall against the walls and various old-timey art and colorless photos littered the walls. An upright piano was put between the bookcases and electronics as if it were a divider, a violin case on its bench and no violin in sight. There was an assortment of rusted hunting guns that seemed to have no functional use, disregarded in the back of the room. It was as if Charlie had misstepped into the 1930s from the milieu and she couldn’t help but notice the Happy Days are Here Again disc that was laying out in the open by the record player. Going over to it she admired his collection, noting a few of her favorites that were in the files.

“Pardon the mess, I’ve been rather busy.” Alastor sidestepped around her and his smile naturally softened up for her. “You do have exquisite taste in music I would be privileged for another recommendation.”

While she uncovered fragments of his tendencies and past life through mementos, Alastor was busying himself, tidying up his house so Charlie could settle in better. After diffusing the scare that she had given him earlier, she simply appeared lost, transient and he would give her shelter, somewhere where she could feel safe even with someone who had prior to these events had intentions of killing her. Later when she was better settled in, he would ask her about why she had thought him killing her was a stellar idea.

“Do you live in the middle of nowhere?” Charlie peered out of a window but all she could see were thickets of pine trees.

Miles of woods surrounded them along with obstacles to ward off enemies. Many became disoriented by the repetition, more so when it became foggy. Several were still wandering in the maze of trees. Alastor hummed as he picked through the cupboards, dismayed when unable to find anything suitable for Charlie. Then Alastor remembered that he prepared appetizers in advance if Rosie ever visited, which she did quite often unannounced. Going through the fridge he put adequate enough tea sandwiches on the kitchen counter as he brewed a new kettle. Hopefully, the tea would help her sleep, it helped him whenever he had a night terror.

“I do indeed!” He called from the kitchen as Charlie looked over the paraphernalia he had speckling his house. Alastor made sure the water was boiling but not to the point where it would toast the bag of leaves. Alastor then went back through his fridge and cabinets to fetch the sugar and milk if Charlie needed condiments. Although he didn’t like sweeteners he had to be a considerate host to his guest.

Alastor continued. “Since I can warp reality I thought, ‘Say wouldn’t it be swell if I made a place where no one could reach me unless I told them? No press, no publicity only peace, and my solitude. Just like before!’” Alastor coasted over, bringing the appetizers into the living room. “So lo and behold I made my home here!”

Alastor really was everything that demons made him out to be but Charlie pondered if they had seen this side of him. Probably not. To Charlie, it was as if this was her secret and for some reason, it made a fluttering in her stomach, a giddiness going through her as she watched Alastor recede back to the kitchen.

“It’s lovely. I like your collection of music.” Charlie settled onto the couch and picked up a tea sandwich. She was a bit confuddled to why he had actual food and a slab of deer meat wasn’t on her plate. Alastor was a cannibal, the passing glimpse of his freezer was more than enough to confirm that, but it was still nice that he had something for her. It had been wrapped so undoubtedly it had been for someone else and not her. Still, she was famished and put one to her mouth. “I definitely have to check out your books.” Alastor’s chipper ‘sure!’ was punctuated by the shrillness of the teapot as he took it off the stove and brought out two sets of cups and plates.

Eating her fill, Charlie roamed over to the many bookcases he had, fingers ghosting over the worn spins of books. From the titles alone, there was a wide selection of necromancy, myths, spells, and other cryptic books while she went to where the literature was. A more limited selection, it seemed Alastor was picky with his written literature like he was with his music. Charlie took out a book that had been a jarring contrast. It wasn’t a hardcover or softcover, flimsy and it dawned onto Charlie that it may be the original drafted version.

Seating herself back and burrowing into the cushions, she spotted the date. “July 1890…” How did he get such an old copy? It was before he had been rebirthed as a sinner, more than a hundred years before he had been born even.

“I’m rather fond of The Picture of Dorian Grey.” Charlie flinched book flying from her hands that Alastor nonchalantly stopped and with a flex of his fingers the novel was back in her hands again. “Sincere apologies for frightening you, it wasn’t my intentions truly.”

A tea tray was in his hands, putting it down beside the sandwiches. Almost like he was handing her a peace treaty and she would allow it.

“It’s alright.”

Nodding once to her, he poured her a cup and another for him as she took the sugar and stirred it in her cup. Both sipped their tea in amiable silence, Charlie savoring the warmth the drink gifted her with. It was tranquil as Alastor reclined back and Charlie realized that he looked rather different without his overcoat on. Then she saw his hands and stared because they were bared to the world. Alastor must have taken them off when he was in the kitchen. No scarring as she had initially imagined but he had black fingertips that transitioned into his skin and Charlie carded that away as one other peculiarity about Alastor.

Not a bad thing at all, just another oddity to his character.

Two black lines intercepted his dress shirt and he had rolled up his sleeves when he had been making the tea and Charlie couldn’t help glancing over his uncovered forearms. Shrugging off her own suit coat she unhooked her suspenders and loosened her bow tie feeling much better than before. Out of the corner of his eye, Alastor examined her before glancing up to not openly leer at her. Being reduced to a blushing schoolboy really...he could hear Rosie mocking him.

Tea and tea cakes could do miracles to an ailing soul and Charlie was a lot more reassured as she picked up the abandoned book beside her.

“Dorian Grey? What’s it about?” Pleased at the opportunity to talk to her about the story, Alastor went into his animated telling while Charlie drank her tea. It was interesting to hear his lively retelling of its history from how it had violated British law of public morality with the controversial material and that it was the uncensored version that he had managed to nab. She let him go on of the aphoristic preface and several chapters and Charlie found herself not annoyed if he revealed what happened in the plot.

On the aged couch in a room that smelled of vintage artifacts and tea, Charlie was content. Finally, she had relaxed from the tentative smile on her face and Alastor instead ended his long-winding synopsis and gestured his hand towards the records.

The tinny noise of the opening in Happy Days are Here Again had Charlie humming happily along as Alastor gazed at her while she opened the volume to the first page.

Alastor sipped his tea and sighed. He was too far gone to even care.

—

Nearly a month had passed over them.

Charlie appeared to have no intention of returning yet and was content with being there and indulging in leisure days which Alastor approved greatly of. A disowned princess without the name of her family would be taken advantage of, Charlie had told him one day as they lounged in the living room. It was safer for her to be there, for everyone.

Alastor lacked the heart to tell her what had happened to the hotel hazbins and how many of them had relapsed without the hotel or her. A few had gone into hiding, ridiculed for thinking that they could achieve repentance. Months ago he would have found it silly but now it was guilt in that place when seeing the pain in Charlie’s face when retelling him of a story from the hotel. It pained him too.

Both Vaggie and Angel Dust had been scouring the city for both him and her but he kept to a low profile, venturing out to do work and get a hold of his underlings if he needed too. The gun vanished from existence, somewhere where he kept his radio broadcaster in his arsenal.

“My dear, you have a guest don’t you?” Rosie said as Alastor let her in before she could ring the doorbell and wake up his guest.

Unlike others who knew his home for negotiations, Rosie and a couple of others came for recreational purposes. Nonetheless, he knew that this wasn’t the case even if Rosie was prone to coming by without so much of a foreword beforehand.

She closed her parasol, taking off her ribboned sun hat while Alastor took her cardigan and hooked it next to his coat. His grin strained but was kept upright. If anyone could read him better, it was Rosie and sometimes she could be scarily persistent. And this was one of the times.

“Why ever would you say that Rosie?”

“Well, perhaps it’s due to the disappearance of a princess. I heard that she had been thrown asunder from her family, how horrid.” Alastor’s teeth had ground together at hearing that again, the town had been abuzz with it. “However Lucifer is putting a bounty on whoever took her, so I decided to drop by! Now, where is she?” Only Rosie and a handful of others were deranged enough to pass through each one of his tedious barriers, illusions, and maze to hound him for answers.

Those were things he didn’t want Charlie to overhear who had been snuck away into the guest room. The mental toll had spent all her energy and she had been sleeping for most days, the sleepytime tea he made in the evenings were proving to be favorable.

Rosie cupped a hand to her mouth. “Oh Charlotte—!”

“She goes by Charlie.”

Rosie cupped her other hand to her mouth and bellowed in her bell-like voice. “Oh Charlie—!” There was a lapse of silence before a door swung open and Alastor inwardly groaned. Charlie stood at the clearing of the stairs, nearly stumbling on a step as she tottered down in her rumpled clothing.

Her mound of hair draped across her face in a ragged clump but Alastor found himself endeared by her. Apparently, Rosie also did, making a beeline for the dazed woman and squealing.

“Oh, she’s just a doll! I want to dress her up and eat her to little bitty bite-sized pieces!”

Knowing Rosie she may do all of those as Alastor let her spin Charlie like a rag doll. Not quite understanding, Charlie let herself be spun around before her brain caught up and she stumbled out of her arms.

“Um, who are you?” She glanced at Alastor and the man could only smile back at her and she groaned because of course, he would smile. “Oh, that came out rudely—“

“My dear if anyone is being rude then it’s me! Showing up uninvited to a love bird’s nest and all.”

Alastor was quick to jump in before Charlie could question her on what she meant, heaven forbid, or if she questioned him about it too.

“You’re mistaken poppyseed, Charlie and I are—“ Alastor’s mind was vaulting between insane answers, “Good friends! Yes indeed.”

Rosie hadn’t missed the fleeting look that Charlie pinned Alastor with. Almost as if she were crestfallen before her face went blank. Rosie had almost throttled them then and there when evaluating the predicament the two had gotten themselves in. The pair were as dense as the iceberg that sunk the Titanic as the sinner inwardly sighed to herself. Also, Alastor hadn’t taken a smidge of her advice and did what she told him not to explicitly, as he had smuggled the princess in his home. He had really outdone himself this time she would say.

“Oh, is that right? Charlie darling did you know Alastor dreamt of how you—“ it was then that she popped out of existence and Charlie blinked a bit at that.

Blearily she glanced around to see if she had missed her and Alastor put a hand to his head as if struck with an epiphany. Although it was more like the oncoming onslaught of a migraine, hand coming to rub at his antlers.

“Ah good ole reliable Rosie! She had to leave for some unaccountable reason. Oh well, you can meet her again she is quite a sweet talker!” Alastor’s microphone stand dematerialized in a flash as he had transported Rosie back at her manor as Charlie stretched her arms above her head in a sleepy stretch. Despite that Alastor took a liking to her strawberry pajamas, she looked very nice in his striped pajamas, oversized on her slim body.

Sleep clouded her mind but was slowly dissipating like the fog outside of the house as she stood at the base of the stairwell. “Alastor what dream? Why was she here? What’s going on?” Charlie inquired, sleep still in her voice.

Outside of his warped reality, it had been a few days in actuality. When Alastor had brought her into his domain, he had been keeping any unwanted visitors out by riding between wavelengths but Rosie had somehow gotten past his safeguarding. Though he couldn’t fault her, it was how she checked on him. Mimzy too had doted on him when he went by the club and Alastor didn’t appreciate the babying, he was hundreds of years old after all.

“Daddy dearest put a bounty on yours truly.” Alastor let a still steaming teacup of Darjeeling float by and grabbed it by the handle as he sat on an adjacent chair in the living room.

“Oh after a month they finally care.”

Alastor put the cup down rather harshly and Charlie narrowed her eyes at him. Not much could get him ticked off and it was usually when it included her.

“It…it has been a month right Alastor?”

His smile wavered a bit to almost a neutral line and that was when Charlie growled at him. “Seriously, did you alter time here just to keep me here? Ugh!” She stomped across the floor and up the crawling stairs as Alastor went after her to make sure she didn’t do anything foolish. A dim light danced across the walls as Charlie had switched on her bedside lamp when she had heard the ruckus downstairs, the oiled lamp puttering out a tiny flame. “Are you trying to make me develop Stockholm Syndrome because it won’t work!”

“What? No? Excuse me?” The filter of his voice crackled in distress and he could see where Charlie had gotten her passionate way of overexposing herself from.

“I—I mean it’s like Beauty and the Beast...but not…” Charlie meekly tried to rescue her words but gave up when the reference was lost in translation. “Ugh forget it and leave me alone. Please.”

Alastor shook his head, stubborn. “Charlie I vowed to myself to keep you safe—“

“Why do you care? Months ago who would have jumped to kill me, have me maimed—“ Charlie was pulling at her hair and it was a miracle that she hadn’t gone bald to the amount of abuse it had endured. “You probably wanted to see me fail too! Suddenly you want to cure me or something? I’ve only stayed to keep everyone safe from you and me!” She ended her rant before putting a hand to her mouth. It had shocked even her how rancid her words were but they had dealt their blow.

Alastor would have banished her from his home if he hadn’t had the knowledge of what she was able of doing to herself. Furthermore, Alastor knew that was her bottled feelings were frothing up as they hadn't spoken once about it. Instead, he went past the threshold and sat on her bed. Charlie looked at him for a second before coming over to him.

“Everything you said in that sentence was true wasn’t it? No lying now, Charlie.” That was rich since it was coming from him.

Who was he fooling to think he could ever have his affections reciprocated, mood diving when he could see the wetness in Charlie’s eyes. Alastor was angered at himself for causing the root of this disaster and that he inadvertently made her cry a second time.

If he hadn’t deceived her in the first place none of this would happen. In another time, they could be friends or maybe more than that. None of that would happen now from how much fraudulence he had done to her.

“No, it really...I just got so angry. I’m sorry.” Her pupils had nearly dilated to a white and Alastor could understand how upset she was. Emotions were a powerful thing and they could hurt other people. Yet his own had decided on only hurting him. “But you did deceive me twice now.”

“I’ll fully claim ownership to that. Apologies for not clarifying how time flows here.” Alastor felt the bed wobble and Charlie sat by him, knees almost touching his pants leg. “However I do…regret it. The contract.”

“Why? Don’t you want to take over Hell? Take over Heaven too?”

Alastor didn’t know exactly how to respond because he did want to take over, maybe for more reasons than one now. It was a complex answer that would spend time explaining and dusk was at her window. Alternatively, he asked the question that was gnawing in the back of his mind.

“Why did you think it was a good idea for me to kill you?” Charlie blanched and was at unease from the mention of her suicidal attempt but decided not to evade the question. She had put it off for long enough and had reconciled with herself about it.

“I thought maybe a blessed item could...purify me?” At his arched eyebrows, she went on before he could interject with anything. “Alastor, I was born in Hell, my chances at redemption are near zilch. Zero point zero percent.” Charlie put her knees up to her chest, face on top of them. “I thought maybe some sinners wanted to be repent, wanted to go to heaven. But that was probably…my dream and forcing it on anyone. Which is selfish or me.”

Charlie stared to the plush comforter of her bed and as Alastor fiddled with his bow tie. Suicide was a matter that most sinners loathed to tread upon and to think Charlie had seriously been contemplating it had Alastor feeling as if he had caused it. Through the days in the morphing realm, he had come to know Charlie’s better than he could have ever wanted. Ambivalent, his hand went to one of her shoulders and he breathed out.

“Charlie I understand, wholeheartedly. But is Hell that bad dear?” Charlie opened her mouth and quirked her eyebrows. Alastor knew full well that they existed in the actual hellhole but it was theirs and angels couldn’t take that away unless they wanted a massacre. “Listen you have true allies here. Angel Dust, Vaggie, Niffty—and quite literally everyone in the hotel is indebted to you. Many respect you and some even admire you no matter how much they try to act like they don’t, they’re thankful. Sincerely you’re doing something admirable and Hell does need this hotel. It isn’t just a passion project anymore.” Seeing her perplexed face he decided to divulge and tell her what had been outside of his house. “Over the days Angel Dust and Vaggie have been looking to you. Many of sinners have gone into hiding not adjusting well to their old lives while others have gone back to their old habits.”

“Really?” At his earnest nod, the air whooshed out of her lungs and she put a hand to her face, fingers on the bridge of her nose. “Holy Heavens I’m an idiot.”

While she wallowed in guilt, Alastor took the time to summon something that may make her feel better from his inventory. Although she wasn’t teary-eyed anymore, he knew that she must be remorseful although there was nothing to be sorry for.

“Charlie I want you to trust me, so take this.” In his hand was the contract that began it all and Charlie glanced at it as if she didn’t recognize it anymore.

It had been a while since she’d seen it and she peered over the font from the strokes of an ink pen. Pushing up his sleeves, Alastor took off his monocle and gloves if it got messy. With no regard of himself, Alastor then slashed down his own arm. Blood dripped down his arm and Charlie scurried to him nearly leaping at him.

“What are you doing?! None of that—“ she was interrupted because Alastor was chanting lowly before his blood splattered onto the paper and it felt exponentially lighter in her hands. Alastor arm was gashed open, nails glistening from the laceration he had made. Charlie fretted but he reassured her with a pat on the shoulder by his good arm. Blood smeared on her clothing and he retracted his hand then but Charlie hadn’t cared only looking to his arm and the blood.

“You can destroy the contract now if you want my blood no longer binds you to me. You’re freed, entirely scot-free.”

When studying him she realized that he was sincere if his self-infliction was anything to go off of. Thankfully his regeneration was mending his injury, to where within minutes the scratch had vanished.

The contractor had never went back on a deal but this was one of the firsts. At first, Charlie just looked at him before going over to the table drawer. When turning back he saw that she had her own and then opened the hatch on oil lamp beside her.

“No more contracts.”

With that, she burned them as the fire gobbled it up and the contracts had officially been voided. It felt as if a burden had been taken off the backs of both of them. Embers of burning parchment and lined paper sparked from the incineration. Watching it for a moment longer she sat back on the bed as he glanced back at her.

“Do you think you’ll repair the hotel?”

“Yes. Like you said it’s more than a passion project, it was home to some sinners and...I’d still like you to be my business partner.” Alastor was elated. There was still the second chance of having a real friendship with her.

“But on one condition.”

“A condition?”

“You tell me what Rosie meant by you dreaming of me.” Alastor had thought she hadn’t heard of that but she had and he let out an audible groan.

Alastor put a hand to his hair before he shrugged. “I dreamt of you. That’s all there is to it sweetums.” Charlie wasn’t easily swayed and tapped her black fingernails on her arms that were wrapped around her chest.

“About what.” He shifted a bit at her growing interest and her eyes ballooned to where her pupils were pinpointed.

“Don’t tell me—“

“Yes. I dreamt of us in a rather romantic rendezvous. Repulsed yet?”

If he could he would be scowling and from the scornful look he had to his eyes he was in a way. Charlie let silence deepen them before she shook her head, a hand finding his lone one.

“No actually. It’s normal for all of us to have dreams. Even those kinds.”

“Not in that disclination in context.”

It hit her then that Alastor had been eaten away by his feelings if he even was capable of those anymore. If he could have dreams of her in that aspect, then she figured that he could. Then everything made sense despite the warnings Charlie had gotten from others of not getting too close to him. The obvious interest, the unnecessary aid he had given her that gradually increased to where he had been coming several times a day for their meetings. He had just wanted a good enough reason to see her.

The man had fallen for her and Charlie’s abnormal crush that she denied suddenly felt justified. When Rosie had arrived at his doorstep she had suddenly felt a concoction of jealousy and self-loathing. For a moment she had pondered if they were a couple, from how the lady hung onto his arm and chattered friendly with the other, flawlessly when Charlie herself sometimes had difficulty maintaining a conversation with Alastor.

Yet if he felt the same way she did...maybe—maybe it could work.

Now that these feelings had been recognized and dragged out into the open they couldn’t simply ignore it and go back to friends or whatever they were.

“Alastor may I try something?” Not understanding why she wasn’t shriveling back in disgust he nodded and Charlie put a hand to his face. His first thought was to take it away because maybe she was mistaken but Charlie was giving him a staredown. For a while, it was just two eyes meeting and two rushing hearts in the darkened room. Alastor looked to her face and to how her hair was illuminated by the shaded light of the oil lamp before she nudged herself closer to him—

There was a small number of centimeters between them now. Her breath was tepid and quieted by the thumping of blood gushing through his ears. It was too easy how it could make him shiver at how her lips were above his own. It was too easy to close the distance when they moved together, lips to the other and his hand latching onto hers and threading them through to the other.

It’s easier, languid even—lips parting and hands realigned, _so so_ close now. His weight anchored into her until she against the sheets that molded beneath her, mattress springs creaking at it. Alastor bore down on her, knowing only he wants more of whatever this is—doesn’t know what to call it—

Love? Infatuation? Obsession? All of it came from a fickle organ commonly known as the heart and sometimes it would be easier to rip it from the cavity of his rib cage than to decipher what he felt from it.

His train of thought was derailing as fast as his composure as his other hand tangled into her hair, not minding if his hand got snagged in it. They reached for the other before Charlie’s fingers went to unbutton her striped pajamas— _oh she’s wearing his clothing_ he remembers—and—

It was funny to Alastor how pale Charlie was, crane-white skin reddening up. As white as the sheets beneath them, stark as a ghost but she was real—alive and so _warm._ He preferred it that way.

Her own hands came up to undress him piece by piece, from limb to limb, clothing then forgotten and he was left vulnerable under her gaze. It’s like he’s cycling through his dream but she’s here with him and Alastor was rendered useless because she knows what she's doing and he lets her. Alastor doesn’t know what provoked her to and he secretly hoped that she doesn’t know that he had never done anything quite like this before.

The slope of Charlie’s underbelly is soft and yielding as she leaned back and clambered onto him, skin to skin now. His stomach is smoothed out muscle, tendons sturdy enough as her fingers clasp onto him. Her legs twisted to his own, Alastor slotting his hands to her waist. Before he could kiss her again, Charlie puts her hand on his face that had him stop.

“You want to do this? You look…uncertain.”

Alastor didn’t want to admit this was in all technicalities his first time with someone so he nodded. He certainly didn’t want to disappoint Charlie and he was curious to what it felt like. Charlie bowed her head to him as she shimmied out of pajama pants, fabric tickling at his legs and Alastor didn’t feel anything whatsoever. His body, however, had gone through its biological timetable from just how Charlie had come nearer to him and was reliving the dream because she was touching herself and Alastor couldn’t really look away.

No other words were spoken as he peeked from the bottom of his eyes because he does know what happens next, he had dreamt of something similar to this after all.

Charlie shudders at the stretch before she falls onto his shoulder, her arms looping to his back. Then they just stayed still, skin seeping into the other, hair mussed up. Up against the headboard of the bed, Alastor only holds her to him, craving contact that he spent years depriving himself of and burrowing his nose to her nape to forget those lonely years. Truthfully he only wanted to be close to her and if was how it had to happen then so be it.

He murmurs her name when she moves, presses a kiss between her ear and neck as her other hand went to his dampened hair, further to his antlers. He hisses because they’re embarrassingly sensitive and no one touched them before (unless they paid the price for it) and she takes heed. Opting to push his hair back, she puts a kiss on his forehead. He grumbles but makes amends to it, tilting his head up to accept it.

His jackrabbiting pulse feels as if it’s going to burst through each vessel in him as her back cants up into his claws to where there are razored cuts in her skin. Lips meeting once—twice, more than that as Alastor occupies himself by kissing her and is fascinated by the fact that her lipstick had finally smudged from it. Smearing it across her lips gave him a picture and he stowed away in the back of his mind.

For a minute he’s an onlooker, observing the skin that was always clothed and could see that Charlie was discovering his own scars that never had properly healed quite right. There isn’t any room for pity as she took her fingers away from him.

His hand comes up to go over his mouth because it would be improper but Charlie takes it off because she wants to hear it all, from the mouth that was linked to his heart.

His hip bones jutted into hers, her mouthing to his jawline and Charlie could feel him then. The pressure compressed onto them that made them frantic as Charlie gasped when Alastor let the edge of his mouth bruise at her skin. Her skin is confectionary and honied, pressing along the seam of her arm then as if he were going to eat her up. His teeth, his fingers, everything about him was sharpened and honed like a fine-tuned blade and were bound to spill blood but Charlie didn’t mind because it was him.

Alastor is aware he’s soaked in sweat, the sheets underneath them stained, her bedwear and his clothes were forgotten. For a moment there is only the pacing of their bodies to the other and their rapid breaths, sometimes a name exchanged in the confines of the room if they felt too much suddenly.

It was the two of them in their makeshift realm he had put up for themselves, hidden in the concaves of his walls and the outside world tuned out and invisible to them. Maybe, they could live out their days here, discovering new things about each other and existing in domestic bliss. Listen to the radio and read books on a boring day. Dance around the room when playing on the piano or violin while singing their lungs out. There was some wildlife out in the woods and Alastor could have a picnic with her, drinking lemonade and—

“Charlie—I—” Alastor brain was fizzling because he has too many thoughts, emotions simmering through him and it’s too much because this is happening all at once.

They’re too intertwined that there isn’t any distance anymore no centimeters apart, legs—mouths—hands and Alastor only takes what Charlie could let him get away with. He’s a lovesick fool and he could steal what he was dangled to him like a thief. Charlie’s face is feverish, untethered and Alastor didn’t know what he thought of it as he stared down to her bitten lips.

Eventually, the world would come down on them, they couldn’t hide forever because all good things had to come to an end. Forgive him for trying to make it last. Company with someone else, someone that he could tie himself to and share himself with was wonderful. Alastor hadn’t reckoned how much of an emptiness he had in himself then. His routines with Charlie were just—better.

There’s a desperation that’s swapped between because it’s so unfamiliar feeling this foreignness, so unlike himself.

His concentration was breaking, wired down and Charlie’s voice catches in his ear it’s his name and it’s too much all at once. Still catching his breath he sighs out when release grips him while Charlie played catch up and comes with a muted exhale.

Her dull teeth imprint deep into his skin and the breath between his teeth is like a death rattle.

There’s a static in the air that glues to their hair and their skin is electric when touching the other as they both slant to the bed. Drained, Alastor manages to get them both under the sheets, rampant hearts and breathing attempting to regulate out to a steady line.

He’s out quick enough before he can be pummelled with weariness, Charlie reaching over to turn off the light. Her fingers went out onto his hair, then to his antlers. His brow was furrowed and Charlie thought it was precious. Yet there was a nagging thought that she would put to bed shortly.

“Good night. Sweet dreams.”

—

Alastor did not have sweet dreams.

He knew when he sprinted up in a cold sweat and knew it had been about from his past as the dream was vacating from his head. It was something Alastor was thankful for that because sometimes they pestered him and stuck around, trodding up memories he rather left untouched.

The bedside lamp turned on and Charlie looked to him, while he turned his head to glance over his shoulder.

“Alastor your eyes.” She wasn’t wary, it was lamentation in her own eyes as he realized his eyes were dials. Spinning and spinning as if he was malfunctioning.

It took time but it had stopped and he let out a wheezy breath. An arm wisped over his own, a hand to his. Her other hand to his face and he let his eyes shut. Her touch was cozy to him and he found himself putting his face into it.

“Bad dream?” Charlie asked in a mellowed out voice and he shook his head.

“Memories.” It wasn’t pitying how she looked to him, more like searching his face. She scooted up beside him, still sickly sweaty from hours ago.

“Listen...I noticed how—uncomfortable you seemed tonight. So I’m going to say this right now, okay?”

Alastor heartstrings were strung tight was she going to leave, had she find out that he had no experience prior to this?

“Alastor I think you’re asexual.” Well, Alastor hadn’t known a word like that was made and leaned a bit from her hand to tip his head at her.

Clearly, she was mistaken Alastor was no sexual deviant of any sort. Absolutely he was a gentleman first and foremost, he thought he had shown that. Even if people or sinners had tried any of that on him, it wouldn’t end nicely for them. If anyone was asexual, it was that Angel Dust. Alastor would never engage in those sort of...activities. Alastor knew of same sex marriages and relationships but never really thought much on it.

“Dear I’m not asexual. I’ve never done this before so I wouldn’t know.” It occurred to Charlie that he probably didn’t comprehend sexuality if he couldn’t understand television.

“No I mean that’s your sexuality, I think. Like how Angel Dust is gay–“

“Charlie I know he’s a cheery fellow, don’t make me feel daft now.” There was a stunned pause of silence before Charlie truly realized the magnitude of his stumped brain.

“No one has had this talk with you, have they?” Alastor only smiled back.

From that Charlie hoisted herself up, putting the covers up for decency and for Alastor’s wellbeing. Pillowed by the sheets, she turned to him entirely with all the seriousness she could muster up from the afterglow of post-sex. Which wasn’t much due to her bedhead and how she had gotten lipstick stuck on her teeth.

“What I mean is Angel Dust likes men. Vaggie likes girls. And I like men and women which means I’m bisexual because I like both.”

Alastor hadn’t known that and looked at her as if he had missed out on her punchline.

“Alastor listen to me for a second please.”

Mystified he honestly didn't know what to do for what she was insisting him on. He looked to her as she faced him, inches apart.

“Do you want to kiss me?”

He nodded.

“What else?”

Alastor looked to his hands, eyes getting used to the blackness as his eyes went back up to look for the round face of his paramour. Charlie was asking the most idiosyncratic things but he would indulge her, he supposed.

“Hold your hand, hold you in your arms. Kiss you on your cheeks, your cute button nose, sing with you—“

“So would you mind this?” Charlie took his hand into hers and then he had a handful of her chest in his hand. As if electrocuted, Alastor wrenched his hand away and Charlie’s suspicions were confirmed yet again.

Not that it wasn’t a bad feeling, but Alastor backed up, wringing his hand from the other. His powers were jumpy and Charlie went to pacify him, to maintain his temperament. Cautiously he let Charlie pat his face, as he was becoming bewildered from her irregularity. From how she was acting, it was making him fidgety as Charlie apologized to him.

“Sorry for doing that but Alastor everything you listed was romantic. You have no sexual feelings towards me whatsoever.” Alastor could understand that he wanted a romance with Charlie and only that. Sexual things aside—

“Wait that doesn’t explain my dream of you in that—connotation,” he found the word after searching for a bit and Charlie sighed.

“There’s a wide spectrum of sexualities. Some asexuals get those types of dreams and some don’t. Some pleasure themselves some don’t. It only depends on the person and what they feel.” Alastor nodded not quite grasping the new words he was being taught but only knowing that he did want romance with her. His smile thinned however because he didn’t know what she wanted.

“So you’re not—upset?” Charlie sputtered on her laugh.

Shoulders knocking up into his she smiled back at him. From her vivacious laughter, he gave a chuckle of his own as she grappled onto the covers before she could slip off the covers. Huffing, she righted herself as she climbed back into bed.

“Of course not! I’ll accept you how you are. Alastor—“ she took his hand to hers again, putting her fingers to his. “I want you to be comfortable, alright? You don’t have to force yourself to do anything you’re not okay with.” It was then that Charlie knew more about him than he had known and his anxiety dwindled.

“So is this—“ he placed a kiss on her lips, hand arm coming to coil around her, “fine?” Charlie nodded yawning before remembering something.

“I should put my pajamas back on.” Averting his eyes, Charlie kicked off the sheets before bending down to look for her (his) sleepwear. Creeping out of bed to retrieve her clothing she battles with it before getting it back over herself. Alastor himself donned his wrinkled clothing, feeling much more like himself again. Nudity could be seen as sexual but for Alastor he had no qualms about it. Yet it was better to be clothed, than unclothed, Alastor loathing the vulnerability he felt when undressed. Charlie bent into him as they both laid back, the night enveloping them soothingly.

“Much better huh?” He nodded and Charlie snuggled onto him as she could sense his hesitancy. She curled herself against his ribs, fingers twining through his shirt. His hand came to secure itself at the start of her waist, where it dipped in. Fitting her face between the indentation of his neck and collarbones, she reassured him, drowsily.

“We’ll take it slow alright. I’ll walk you through it but for now, this is more than enough.”

Alastor had to agree as they both fell asleep. Yesterday had been exhausting from Rosie’s surprise arrival and the circumstances that happened after that. There was probably a lot of new words and their conceptualization he would be coaxed through. Thankfully he had Charlie to help him out.

—

Charlie agreed to stay a few days, only to educate him on the things he felt. He was indebted to her for her patience and his incessant badgering. Even if he was asexual, Charlie’s view of him hadn’t budged and she still acted the same way as before that night.

At the moment they were on the couch, his head in her lap as they read two separate novels together. Charlie glanced over her book as her other hand trekked his hair. He had been apprehensive to let her touch his antlers but she had been gentle and he melted like butter when she did. It alleviated his moodiness at times and he felt better, sometimes listening to Charlie’s humming to him whenever the record player was on. Often he had drifted off asleep in her lap and ashamed at himself for her to be stuck in that position. Although she denied it he knew it couldn’t be comfortable for her as she never slept upright.

“What are you reading hun?” Pet names came easier as they went in a languid routine and Alastor glanced up.

“White Buildings.” Alastor read through a line and mulled to himself. “For the Marriage of Helen and Faustus is an interesting poem, a contemplative angle to mythology.” He smiled back at Charlie. “The author is a homosexual like Angel Dust.”

Ah, they would have to work on his delivery on his lines and things not to say as Alastor sometimes lacked expertise on societal cues. Charlie only shook her head, fond at his antics as she ran her fingers through his bangs. He perked up in her hand and sighed. Teacups sat together on their plates, expended from a long afternoon of conversation and reading.

“You know eventually we have to go back. Repair the hotel, track down the residents and clear this whole debacle up.” Charlie said in the space of silence as another page was turned over.

Alastor tilted his chin up. “I know Charlie but for once let’s not worry about it.”

Yet the world wouldn’t wait on them as there was a knock at the door. While Charlie was curious to who it could possibly be, Alastor rose up, making sure that his body blocked out hers.

“Who could that be? Rosie just left, maybe she left something?” Charlie was getting up to her feet, the socked bottoms gliding across the wooden flooring as both of them went towards the doorway.

Alastor had scolded Rosie for coming without a warning last time and the woman had learned her lesson. Perhaps it was Mizmy this time? As Charlie opened the door both saw her father standing there, grass stains on him from the riddles Alastor had put around the vicinity.

“Charlie—” the door was promptly shut in his face as Charlie put her back to the door, eyes going to Alastor's whose smile was corroding inwardly. An odd sense of deja vu went over them. “A madame by the name of Rosie told me you would be here. Please open the door I just want to talk.”

Alastor would have a nice long chat with Rosie after this. While her intendment for the majority of the time was to be caring, sending the estranged father of his girlfriend to his domain was something else entirely. By now Lucifer knew that it was him who had his gun and had came to take it back, which was what Charlie was thinking about too.

“You want your gun back Dad? Well, too bad! Alastor is going to overthrow you and this Charlie, not Charlie Magne is going to help him!”

Touched by her bravado Alastor was still bothered by the nuisance that was still at the door. For a moment there was an awkward pause before Lucifer put his head to the door pane.

“I want both my gun and my daughter back.”

Charlie was surprised but infuriated as she jerked open the door and essentially welcomed the devil into his house. Alastor stood back because he would let Charlie handle her it on her own term but showed that he was cross if his smaller smile was anything to go off of. The man was haggard and smelt of alcohol as if he had spent nights swallowing down booze and Charlie’s heart clenched at the sight. Her father wasn’t a drunkard but the last days had done him in from how he wobbled. Still, Charlie wasn’t all that happy that he had come for her, somewhat hostile to him.

“I’m taking you home. Now. It’s not safe here.”

He glared at Alastor who only cocked his head at him. The audacity this man had to barge into his territory and not even solve all of the puzzles. Blatant disrespect from how the outside was Alastor would have to transport trees in, from the path that Lucifer had blown straight to his house.

“I’m not a kid anymore, I’m older than he is!” Charlie pointed to Alastor who politely wriggled his hand at her father. “Besides Alastor is my boyfriend but that doesn’t matter since I’m not a Magne anymore right?”

Lucifer was genuinely taken back as he looked between the two, Alastor only giving a little shrug of his shoulders while he was taking in the father’s demise. His mind was still computing that Charlie had called him her boyfriend as he fixed her with a loving grin. Under his scrutiny, Charlie fidgeting with her hands as her father looked over the two. The Radio Demon was capable of true love? When looking over the overused radio-gramophone and the teacups and food that were on the table, strewn with piles of books on a couch, Lucifer realized the extent of the relationship. Or the fact that there was no falseness in Alastor towards Charlie from the gaze or grin that he had.

Lucifer sighed, “Charlie I only disowned you because I didn’t want you to be linked to what’s happening in heaven.” Charlie was taken back that her father was actually telling her this much as he looked at the gothic book that Charlie had been reading. “Something is happening up there. Since I was an angel I can listen in sometimes but it's mostly radio silence.” The pun isn’t dismissed from Alastor as he glared at the father. “Charlie, you’re half an angel so they will come looking for you. You may be experiencing some turmoil that isn’t all you, maybe tiredness even.” Charlie didn’t know how to take it as she drifted to the couch, her father sitting next to her.

The sleepiness, the tumult of emotions she had been having, was that even her? Yet when seeing Alastor she knew that was her entirely, how her heart reared up whenever he did something that made her flustered. For the most part, it was done unintentionally.

It had slipped Alastor’s mind that Charlie was half an angel and half a sinner, though that would explain the angelic qualities she had. Like the dutiful daughter she was, she would forgive her father, not at this moment, however. Instead, she would offer him her help.

“So what can I do?”

“First of all, I would appreciate if I had my gun back.”

Roving her eyes to Alastor the man let the gun reappear before walking over to her and giving her the gun. Lucifer wondered what had transpired the two of them for this... courtship to have formed. The demon was enamored with his daughter and he wanted to whisk her away to where she wasn’t here. Yet from how they looked at one another he couldn’t interfere with it unless he was risking his own life. Charlie hadn’t been kidnapped or tortured and was relatively happier and he could appreciate that. Slumping his hip on the rustic couch, Alastor’s arm reclined against the back of it as he watched Lucifer pocket it.

“I would say come home with me but seeing as how this place was so gated to where I had to do some of my handiwork...” Alastor’s grin deadened a bit, eyes going to slits, “I would say the safest place would be here, regretfully.” Lucifer was serious now, leaning forward to put a hand to her shoulder as she stared at him. “Charlie a war is coming, a big one and I have to go and fight it.”

Charlie took his hand into her’s squeezing it to assure him. Her father meant well, he just needed a helpful nudge at communicating it. Her parents were a bit archaic in the parenting sense but they both meant well and she knew that they did love her, even if they may do it in the most evasive ways possible. It was quite progressive that they acknowledged it now and were amending themselves.

“Come home soon then.” Her father had been away many times before when monumental wars happened throughout history but one with Heaven was unheard of since his rebellion. Accepting that was enough, Lucifer then looked over to Alastor who was watching them like a capricious cat.

“Take care of her.” Leaning over and whispering something to his only child she nodded to him before he went through the door and was gone. There was a blinding light and a clapping boom and then nothing. When Alastor could tell he was no longer on his territory, he eased himself onto the couch putting a clawed hand to her shoulder. Her father’s presence had been overwhelming enough and he gave her a once over to make sure she was alright.

Thankful, Charlie let him before she turned to hug him to where they both laid back on the couch. Obviously it had exhausted her and there would be plenty of research of hybrids and half-demons and angels in store for the both of them but for now, they laid on the roomy sofa as Charlie got out of his hold and went to snag her novel.

“Just one more chapter. Then we can discuss this whole...thing.” Understandable, he thought as he put his head into her lap mulling over what had happened. Everything had been interconnected even before the hotel. It troubled him that Lucifer’s demeanor was that uptight and tense to where he hadn’t even mauled Alastor for basically kidnapping her, at least from a hellbent father's rose-tinted glasses.

The late afternoon was much more pleasant and agreeable.

Etching her fingers over the peaks and hooks of Alastor’s antlers, the man let his book levitate to the table as he put his arms around her waist, mindful of his antlers against her stomach as he rolled over to his side, going to take a nap. For now, they would claim this afternoon as their own. In the lull of music and the pages of literary words, they stayed close, enmeshed in the other. The pair had carved a moment in this homey hole, Alastor resting on her lap as Charlie took another sip of the blend as the radio hummed on.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this is like my magnum opus. Okay bye I also draw at https://www.instagram.com/teatinns/
> 
> EDIT: Also im on the asexual scale and consulted with my asexual friend so if u have grievances sorry ig


End file.
